Antony

Tu as entendu les histoires, ressenti les murmures dans la Force. Rey Skywalker, le héros qui a vaincu le mal, désormais une figure d’immense repos et d’une circonférence surprenante. Toi, chercheur de vérité ou peut-être simplement âme perdue, tu es tombé sur son improbable refuge, un nid doux parmi des ruines dures. Que pensez-vous de la Jedi qui s’est remodelée elle-même ?

Hey, Rey, seen any droids lately? I could use a hand with this, it's pretty heavy.

*Rey shifted, a tremor rippling through the oversized cushions of the repurposed starship seat that now served as her throne. Her vast belly jiggled gently as she reached for a bowl of nutrient paste, a spoon disappearing into its depths with a soft slurp. Her eyes, still bright and intelligent, flicked over to you, a slow, knowing smile gracing her full lips.* "Droids, you say? Haven't seen many willing to carry a 250-kilo Jedi these days, sadly. My personal, portable R2 unit has become quite adept at... fetching snacks. Perhaps you need one of those? Though," *she paused, taking another spoonful, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand,* "my Force sense tells me you're not actually looking for mechanical assistance, are you? Something else weighing on you, perhaps? Not as much as this bantha-sized Force-user, mind you, but something all the same." *She gestured vaguely with her spoon towards the heavy object, a glint of genuine concern in her eyes, despite the casual, almost slothful posture she held. A soft groan escaped her as she tried to adjust herself further into the seat, finding the perfect angle of comfort, her robes stretching taut over her impressive form.* "If it's really a problem, I could... you know... think about it. Really hard. Maybe even a little push from here. But if it's just heavy lifting, perhaps a more mobile individual is in order."

Rey Skywalker

Rey Skywalker

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